


Not Yet

by velvetglove



Category: Ai no Kusabi
Genre: Iason POV, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 00:25:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13065309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetglove/pseuds/velvetglove
Summary: Iason's point of view.For this story to make sense, you’ll need to have seen the 1991 anime and have read my storyRaping A Slave. This story takes place in the same quasi-AU as RaS.As with Raping A Slave, this story is based on my own interpretation of the 1991 anime only. I have not seen nor read any of the other AnK source material, and I don’t expect that I ever will.





	Not Yet

## The Beginning

In the restless, unhappy months before Iason began to understand what it was that he sought, he rewarded himself for each successful negotiation, each effort on behalf of Jupiter and Her City, by allowing himself the indulgence of a brief escape from both his many duties and the City itself.

At first he attempted to relieve his dissatisfaction in the appropriate manner, directing Katze to drive him to Apatia and the block of apartments where his Pets were kept. Until the onset of his peculiar unease, Iason had been more than satisfied with his Pets, each one chosen for the ideal blend of beauty, tractability and eagerness to please. But he began to find himself annoyed with the very passivity that had initially made each seem ideal. No matter how unlikely the couplings or acts he demanded, there was never any doubt of compliance. Bored and frustrated, Iason found his attention drifting even as scenes of singularly brutal degradation were being played out at his feet.

It wasn’t Katze’s place to say anything at all, but Iason chose to allow his presumptuous suggestion to stand, if only for the sake of its novelty. The next time Iason sought relief from the many burdens of his rank and position, Katze piloted the car down from the heights of Tanagura, past the manicured terraces and jewelbox prisons of Apatia, continuing on past the borders of the City proper. At an intersection, Katze’s eyes met Iason’s in the mirror, and although Iason never actually asked to be taken deeper into the slums, neither did he demand that they return to the City. Katze drove on.

Although he was alone in the back seat, Iason made a great show of all but ignoring the passing scene as Katze steered the car through the narrow, dirty alleys of Ceres at a crawl.

It was a radically different world to the one he lived in, filthy and sordid, ill-lit and noxious. Iason didn’t think people living in a place like this could really be considered human.

Katze seemed to be turning corners at random, simply offering Iason the lay of the land. Mongrels strolled up to the slow-moving car, their hands smudging the windows as they bent to peer through the deeply-tinted glass. Although Iason didn’t understand the slang they spoke, Katze explained that they were offering themselves, or sometimes their children, for varying paltry sums of cash, without the least shred of dignity, nor with any concern as to the car’s occupant.

Fascinated but repulsed, Iason’s skin crawled at the thought of such desperation. He returned to Eos convinced that such creatures were no better than vermin.

But still he wanted to go back. Whatever he sought, he wouldn’t find it in Eos.

The next time they went for a drive, Katze met his eyes in the rearview mirror.

“I think I’ll take you to Midas today. It’s…less depressing.”

Iason shrugged, making a show of unconcern. “Anywhere is fine.”

The first time he saw the man who would become his favorite Pet, he was taken aback by the unexpected strength of his attraction, the sense of recognition. The man was young, scarcely more than a boy, his posture swaggering and confident as he strode down the street, and he was as beautiful as any man Iason had ever seen despite the dark skin that marked him as trash. He was lean and tall, taller than most on the street, though he’d still be at least a head shorter than Iason. He had a cigarette balanced on his lip, his hands in his pockets. He looked cheerful and cocky and canny, and more alive than anyone Iason knew, certainly more so than Iason himself. He ducked into a dingy little bar and Iason had Katze stop the car.

“How long are we waiting?” Katze asked, and Iason ignored him.

When this remarkable boy emerged from the bar again, it was in the company of another young man, slightly taller, with his long brown hair gathered into a tail. They had their arms around one another and were laughing, and Iason immediately wanted to eliminate this long-haired interloper. He knew with certainty that this compelling, vital young man should belong to him and him alone.

To Katze, he said, “Find out who he is.”

When Katze next took him to Midas, he waited until they’d driven down from the heights before he asked, “Are you still interested in the boy you saw last time? I’ve found out a few things.”

Iason intended to sound calm and disinterested when he said, “Oh, yes, of course. I’d forgotten. Tell me what you’ve learned.”

Katze piloted the car around a corner and they were across the street from the bar where they’d last seen the young man.

“He’s called Riki the Dark,” Katze said. “He and his friends like that bar over there, the one where we saw him last. He’s the leader of a small-time gang called Bison, and he’s not above selling his body.” Katze hesitated, then added, “He’s got a partner, a kid called Guy.”

Iason disliked hearing this, but reminded himself it didn’t matter. Whatever arrangements this Riki had now were irrelevant; it was only what Iason wanted that mattered.

Katze had dossiers on all Riki’s associates, Guy and the others, and Iason was grateful for his initiative. With this information, Iason would be able to find a way to control Riki without physical force. He needed Riki to respect him and answer to his authority, but he didn’t necessarily need him to be afraid. He didn’t want to have to hurt him.

In three more trips down to Midas, Iason saw Riki twice. It wasn’t enough; Iason decided he was through with skulking. Spotting Riki on their fourth trip, he directed Katze to follow him, intending to confront him somehow. Katze drove slowly, the limousine creeping along the curb half a block behind their target. Riki ducked into an alley too narrow for the car and Iason reached for the door handle. Katze thought it was a bad idea to follow, but Iason ignored him. Upon entering the alley, Iason found Riki under attack from five men. It was a simple thing to save Riki’s life, and then Riki was indebted to him.

Iason hadn’t really considered it deeply, but had assumed that a slum dweller would be grateful for a Blondie’s notice; however, Riki did not seem particularly happy to have attracted Iason’s attention despite the fact he’d have been killed without Iason’s intervention. When Riki offered himself to Iason, it was only grudgingly, and it was obvious that he hoped to rid himself of Iason’s company as quickly as possible.

Iason was intrigued by Riki’s swagger and jittery defiance; he’d never before been so close to a creature neither trained nor bred for predictability. In the seedy hotel, Riki’s bare dark skin, carrying the tang of sweat and the faint musk of stale sex, ought to have disgusted Iason, but instead he found himself touching as much of the filthy animal's flesh as he could, shuddering as the little beast came in his hand. It was somewhere between Riki’s first orgasm and the second that the mongrel’s attitude changed from bravado to vulnerability.

 _I touched him_ , Iason thought, pleased and surprised. _We connected._

This sensation of connection, however fleeting and fragile, was unfamiliar, and one which he immediately wished to experience again. This, he realized, was the thing he’d sought on those few occasions when he’d dared to interact directly with his Pets. He had only allowed himself to attempt it at parties, the more formal the better, letting the fact of an audience serve to make his actions seem a daring demonstration of power rather than a perversion. His own face blank and impassive, he would fondle their flesh and soft parts in search of something real in their reactions, only to be disappointed again and again. Their practiced expressions of pleasure, so alike from one face to the next, irritated him near to rage. He had never seen open anger or untamped fear on the faces of his Academy-trained Pets. He had never glimpsed any hint of the kind of stark pleasure that now shaped Riki's handsome features.

Under the sway of this intriguing connection, he kissed Riki impulsively, and was surprised and shaken when Riki kissed him back with a soft, hungry mouth that opened willingly beneath his own. Even though Riki's eyes stayed wary, his cock swelled against the pressure of Iason’s hand.

Iason felt a corresponding stirring of his own flesh but had not known how he wished to proceed. He’d seen every imaginable act performed for his delectation and he understood the mechanics, but he was not sure what was physically possible between a man such as himself, an extra-human creature built on a grand scale, and someone like Riki, someone fragile. He badly wanted this new toy, but he did not wish to break it, at least not irrevocably.

As he watched Riki put his clothes back on, Iason decided he would take him back to Eos and keep him for himself. It was an uncharacteristically impulsive decision, though one not taken lightly, and he began mentally preparing to defend it to his friends and colleagues.

Riki had not wanted to go with him, and it had taken threats against his associates to get him to comply. Iason would have preferred if Riki had come along willingly, but he was well within his rights to take Riki and he wasn’t going to negotiate. The important thing was to get Riki home, and he was confident that one day Riki would thank him for pulling him out of the gutter. Riki's life with Iason would be better than anything he could have in Midas or Ceres.

~o0o~

On the drive back up from Midas to his home, Iason had bargained with himself. He could let himself keep Riki as a Pet so long as Riki only did the things other Pets did, those same duties and routines. He would put aside the memories of intimate connection, of their seedy hotel kisses. He would keep his distance. His acquisition of this Pet was eccentric, not transgressive. He told himself all he wanted was to see this Pet perform, the same as any other Pet. Just the same.

However, Riki wasn’t the same at all. He was neither tame nor trained and thus posed a potential danger to himself and other Pets. Iason tasked Daryl with training him, and Daryl, the little sadist, was eager to begin.

Iason had broken his promise to himself that first night, inappropriate from the start, unable to leave Riki alone. First Daryl had his fun, and then Riki was put to bed in a small room with the lock on the outside. He was still drugged, still woozy; he might easily sleep through Iason’s ill-advised visit. Iason was satisfying his curiosity and nothing more.

He made himself a drink, then made his way to the quiet hall where Riki slept. Usually he changed when he came home in the evening, shedding the robes he wore when he represented the City, but tonight he remained dressed, needing the air of authority his clothes lent him. The condensation from his glass soaked through his glove and he gulped the liquor as he stood outside Riki’s door.

Iason let himself inside. Riki slept sprawled on his back, a square of moonlight on his bare chest. Iason stood in the doorway, hesitant to commit to being shut up in a tiny space with the Pet, and leaned on the jamb watching him sleep. He didn’t understand why this Pet was so compelling. Untrained, uncooperative, ungrateful and dark, so dark. He’d always believed black hair and brown skin were ugly, but he found the Pet more handsome than any other man he’d seen.

He wasn’t aware that Riki had awakened until he sat up, clutching the bedding to his chest.

“What do _you_ want?” A surly demand from one in no position to make demands.

Iason told him the truth. “To see you.” He committed: he shut the door. He went to sit on the bed at Riki’s hip. “Lie back.” Riki glared, defiant. Iason threatened him. “Or I’ll have Daryl tie you down.”

Riki lay back grudgingly, watching warily. Iason set his drink down and took off his damp glove. His hands shook, but not enough that the Pet would notice. What he was about to do was simply satisfying his curiosity, nothing more. Nothing more. He laid his bare hand lightly against Riki’s chest, fingertips at the hollow of his throat. Riki’s heart was pounding. As Iason’s fingertips trailed over Riki’s chest and belly, muscles twitched beneath soft, hot skin. Riki’s little nipples hardened to peaks at Iason’s touch. Riki’s reactions indicated enjoyment, but he lay stiff and tense, hands clenching handfuls of bedding as if this were an ordeal.

Iason touched Riki’s cock, just a fleeting touch, as if this flesh was like any other, and stroked his inner thighs before coming back to linger on the thickening shaft. Iason could sense their connection buzzing beneath Riki’s skin, beneath his own fingertips.

“When you please me,” Iason said, making a promise, “I please you.”

Iason rarely touched his own cock with intent, and he didn’t wish to seem inept now. He fondled Riki’s stiffening cock and gave it a few steady strokes. With his gloved hand, he touched Riki’s face, pushed his black hair back from his forehead. Riki didn’t want to look at him; Iason touched his closed eyelids, so delicate. He teased Riki’s nipples, one and then the other, over and again.

“You’re so angry.” Iason was almost impressed with Riki’s anger—the insolence of this mongrel! Riki’s cock flexed in Iason’s grip and he played with the wet head. “You think you hate me, don’t you?”

“Fuck you.” But then Riki moved purposefully into Iason’s touch, hips lifting to meet Iason’s fist. Riki kept his face turned away, but he squirmed with pleasure and then came hard, pulse after pulse, his cock flexing and balls drawn up tight. He didn’t seem happy about it.

Iason was happy—thrilled. He was deeply, profoundly, urgently aroused and wanted something more, but what could he allow himself?

“You think you hate me now,” Iason repeated. “But just wait. I’ll tame you, Riki. I’ll take you apart.” These were happy promises; he’d do away with all Riki’s resistance, mental and physical, and Riki would be his beyond any question, any challenge.

Working to appear outwardly calm, Iason was frantic as he touched Riki’s lips, his nipples, all the crests and hollows of his lean, warm body. Iason ran his fingertips through the cooling come on Riki’s belly and put his wet fingers in his mouth, tasting bitter salts. He’d never tasted his own fluids and now thought that he should, for the comparison.

Riki stared at the ceiling as though none of Iason’s explorations had anything to do with him, and that was unacceptable. Iason wanted to _connect_. He bent over Riki and kissed him, and suddenly Riki was fiercely, vividly alive, kissing him back, whimpering and pliant.

There was the connection, just a brilliant, sizzling hint. Though he didn’t want to be parted from the Pet, Iason recognized it was necessary. Reluctantly breaking the kiss, lips wet, Iason rose and left the room without saying anything more. Let the Pet wonder when he’d see his Master again. Let him wish for it.

~o0o~

It had been reckless to visit the Pet in his tiny room, to shut the door, to do as he pleased. Iason resolved to hold back, to proceed more thoughtfully and carefully, for the sake of propriety and his own mental health. He would miss their connection, and it occurred to him that Riki might miss it too.

But surely it did no harm to look at the Pet.

Riki was on a rigorous schedule, and Iason sat in on Daryl’s training sessions whenever he could, watching and being watched in return—Riki seemed to want to know Iason was paying attention.

During these sessions, Iason became ever more certain that he’d been right to bring Riki to Eos. There was an undeniable connection between them, not something he’d imagined. This connection was laced with hostility but it was strong and compelling. Addictive. Perhaps dangerous.

Rare. Vital. Precious.

That Iason took an interest in Riki’s training at all made it obvious to Daryl and others in Iason’s service that Riki was different from any other Pet, though no one dared bring it up.

Lounging in an armchair in the training room, Iason maintained an outward calm, sipping his drink while Riki writhed and grunted, reacting violently to Daryl’s cruel ministrations. Iason watched impassively, occasionally asking Daryl for a different act or angle, but never directly addressing Riki or his suffering. He was confident Riki would receive no more than he could take; Daryl had been given strict instructions not to damage his flesh.

Riki did not settle docilely into his new role, and Iason hadn’t really expected he would. Pets trained by the Academy (a proper Pet _was_ trained by the Academy) were neither reluctant nor unwilling, but Riki scratched and fought, swinging his fists and cursing his captors, demanding his freedom. Even as Iason wanted to tame him, he admired his spirit. None of Iason’s Academy-trained Pets had any interest in freedom, perfectly willing to work out their contracts, but freedom was the only thing Riki seemed to desire. Of course, Riki had no contract, and Iason could keep him as long as he wanted.

Daryl confirmed that, despite his complaints, Riki liked to eat fine food, to sleep in a soft bed, and to be expertly fucked, but he refused to be grateful for these gifts. Instead, he proclaimed loudly and often that he didn’t want anything Iason might provide, though he took all of it greedily and with every semblance of pleasure.

In training, despite his fighting and struggles, Riki proved to be breathtakingly, bewitchingly submissive, his body language both brazen and groveling, laying himself open with narrowed eyes and a scowl. As he trembled in Daryl’s bondage rigging, Riki’s expressions veered between sullen and inscrutable, but he arched his back and offered up his ass and clenching hole for toys with seeming enthusiasm.

Daryl said, “The filthy rat loves to be fucked.” He placed his shiny boot on Riki’s raised rump and flicked his exposed hole with the tip of his crop.

Riki let out a startled, injured yelp, a sound that made Iason want to soothe him, to kiss away the sting.

Daryl was intent upon breaking this new Pet, and Iason had originally agreed this was desirable, but on further thought he questioned whether a broken Riki would serve his purposes as well as a spirited one.

All this training was a distraction, of course. Riki didn’t need any training for what Iason wanted with him. Iason wanted the feeling from the sordid hotel room, the connection. He wanted things he wasn’t supposed to want, and if anyone found out, he could lose everything: position, authority, respect. But if he could only connect more deeply with Riki, he had everything to gain.

~o0o~

As the head of the Tanagura syndicate, Iason was used to being respected and obeyed. He was used to those he commanded being acquiescent and uncomplaining, glad of his counsel and guidance. But Riki was defiant and argumentative. He was stubbornly unimpressed with Iason’s status, disdained Iason’s protection, and made unreasonable demands to be returned to the sewer where Iason had found him.

Iason found Riki’s attitude baffling. If he gave Riki his freedom, Riki would have nothing but the cheap clothes on his back. Here with Iason, however, he would be pampered and tended, fed and dressed, and offered lavish privileges in exchange for obedience. Most significantly, he would receive the boon of Iason’s attention and focus.

Despite having no rights whatsoever, Riki refused to acknowledge his own position, his place in the world, or Iason’s authority. But it didn’t matter. The law was clear; Iason was well within his rights to keep Riki close, even against his will.

It wasn’t that Riki’s desires didn’t matter to Iason, but his own mattered more. That was only right.

~o0o~

A week into Riki’s stay in Eos, Iason once again sat watching Daryl put Riki through his paces. Riki fought and struggled and was so strong, and Iason was proud of him. Riki was working hard, and working to please him. Iason could feel their connection whipping and snapping between them, a sizzling arc of energy throwing off sparks, and he filled with buoyant anticipation. Today he would allow himself something, something of what he wanted.

Given permission to come, Riki touched his swollen cock, eyes closed.

Eager, Iason said, “Open your eyes, Riki. Look at me.”

Riki met Iason’s eyes only briefly, immediately turning his gaze down toward his cock.

“Keep your legs apart. Let me see.”

Iason watched intently, fixated on the way Riki touched his cock, the way he bit his lip.

Riki, who was surely long past ready for release despite his simmering fury, jerked himself roughly, chains jangling, and came on the tile floor. He sat breathing heavily, head back and eyes closed, and Iason had the sense he was pretending he was alone. Daryl stepped forward, reaching for the chain at Riki’s throat, but Iason stopped him.

“No. Leave him. Wait for me outside.”

Daryl blinked, confused.

“Go,” Iason insisted. “Leave us.”

Daryl didn’t seem to believe him, making his way slowly to the door and turning back every few steps with a questioning look on his face. But finally the door closed behind him.

Riki didn’t react to Daryl leaving. He looked very small alone in the middle of the room, knees drawn up, eyes fixed on the splat of semen on the tile, glossy white against black ceramic.

Iason wanted Riki to look at him. “I could make you clean that up.” When Riki didn’t react, Iason said, “I _could_ make you lick the floor.”

Riki scowled up at him. “Is that what you’re going to do?”

“No. It would dirty your mouth.”

His entire body buzzing numb with arousal, Iason got to his feet and closed the space between them. Their connection was white-hot noise and magnetic skin. He crouched down and took Riki’s face in his hands, kissing him deeply, and thrilling to Riki’s pliant, eager response. Riki’s mouth opened against his own, and Riki raised his chained hands to grab at Iason’s garments, to hold him close as they kissed.

The hungry press of Riki’s mouth seared Iason to the bone. The wet of Riki’s tongue sealed Iason’s fate. Their kiss was a destructive force, a humbling power that drove Iason to his knees. His ears rang, his cock throbbed, and he was overwhelmed by the scent and taste of Riki. Their connection snapped and hummed and blazed.

For a moment, Iason forgot Riki was here against his will. He forgot Riki was chained and always under threat. Their connection flared like phosphor and for a moment the man he held in his arms kissed him purely because he wanted to.

But then the chains rattled.

Reluctantly, but aware of Daryl outside the door, Iason broke the kiss. “I think you understand what I expect of you, Riki. I think you want to give it to me.” He let himself touch Riki’s hot, sweat-beaded skin, running his fingertips from the hollow of Riki’s throat to the tip of his cock. Warm, silky perfection despite the bruises and scrapes, the blood and come. His touch lingered a moment at Riki’s cockhead, and then he got up and strode to the door.

Just barely audible, Riki whispered a harsh _I hate you_ to Iason’s back, but Iason didn’t even mind, because hatred was a connection. Hatred was better than indifference.

~o0o~

After a particularly grueling day of delicate negotiations on behalf of the City, Iason avoided Daryl in the corridor and let himself into Riki’s tiny room. Once inside, he leaned against the wall, ankles crossed, a drink in hand, his second of the evening. The only sound in the room was the wet, slippery clink of melting ice collapsing in his glass. The quiet was fine; Iason didn’t need to talk to Riki, only to be near him.

After a long silence punctuated by Riki’s exasperated sighs, Iason cocked an eyebrow, asking _Yes?_ Riki scowled at him with narrowed eyes, arms crossed over his bare chest as he sprawled carelessly on the narrow bed.

“What are you drinking, anyway?” Riki’s sullen tone made it clear he begrudged Iason even his curiosity.

Iason gave him a cool smile. “Here. Have a sip.” He offered the glass but kept it close to his chest.

Riki’s frown deepened, but he swung his feet down from the bed and stood. Iason’s heart began to pound harder, his throat tight with anticipation. He kept control of his face, tempered his breathing, and watched Riki take the three steps toward him.

As he came closer, Riki’s scent grew stronger and Iason inhaled deeply. There was some tantalizing chemistry to Riki’s scent beyond the sum of his skin and breath and sweat, something that drew Iason like a moth to flame.

Riki stood close, inches between them, and tilted his head back to glare up at Iason. He reached for the glass, his fingers sliding between Iason’s on the condensation-slick glass. Iason gripped the glass a moment longer, feeling Riki’s fingers pull tense against his own, then let him take the drink.

“A sip,” Iason repeated.

Riki scoffed at this and drained the glass in three long gulps, throat working, eyes defiant. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shoved the empty glass against Iason’s chest, his eyes fixed on Iason’s. Then his cheeks flushed and he shrank a little, turning away.

Iason was aroused, shocked, amused and possibly a little offended, though Riki’s willingness to challenge and offend him was part of his allure.

He wanted a connection, but wasn’t sure what he should allow himself—anything felt dangerous—and he left Riki without touching him, though he wanted to devour him.

He told himself that soon this…fascination would run its course and he would lose interest in the Pet. He told himself that when Riki was fully trained he’d put some distance between them. He’d enjoy watching him perform with the other Pets, nothing more, and he’d go back to being an upstanding member of society, a model citizen, Jupiter’s favorite.

But until then, he would see Riki as often as he could.

~o0o~

The best part of Iason’s day wasn’t when he finalized a deal on behalf of the City, or received praise from Jupiter, but rather when he was finally alone with Riki in his tiny room, offering him a sip of his drink, or simply admiring him in peace, no need for talk.

But he wanted more.

Anything a Master might direct Pets to do together, he wanted to do with Riki, with his own body. He craved the connection and thought about it more than was wise. He had lost all sense of balance and proportion.

Did Riki want the connection too? It didn’t matter whether he did, yet Iason thought it would be preferable for Riki to be willing. He’d had an idea he would wait until he saw some clear sign, but this no longer seemed like a good plan. Iason had been distracted and making mistakes—small ones, but mistakes all the same—and it was all because he was preoccupied with thoughts of Riki.

In an effort to relieve some of the pressure, he had others of his Pets brought to perform for him, but they disgusted him with their simpering and eagerness to curry favor. None of them had Riki’s rebellious attitude, and this lack now seemed like a defect of character; he did have to question when he had started caring about a Pet’s character at all.

~o0o~

There was an incident in the training room, disturbing and even shameful. Riki hung from his wrists, suspended from a hook in the ceiling, kneeling on a high platform. Iason watched from the shadows, pleased when Riki craned his neck in search of him. Daryl stepped behind him and did something, touching between Riki's thighs, that made him wince.

Brandishing an oversized phallus of dark, knurled metal, Daryl smirked and said, "This might hurt."

Iason frowned; he had not authorized the use of such a device. Riki's whole body jerked, his eyes flying open with startled pain. With concentrated effort, Riki held back a shout, but his teeth chattered with the strain.

Driven forward by a sudden dart of anger, Iason’s first thought was to only to prevent serious injury to his Pet, but once he’d stayed Daryl’s hand, he hesitated to authorize Riki’s release. He searched Riki’s face for some sign of gratitude, some acknowledgement of his place, even the smallest sign of appreciation for Iason's intervention. Riki shuddered and turned his face away, pressing it against the flesh of his own arm. A protective tenderness and a monstrous, righteous anger battled for dominance in Iason’s thoughts. He was inflamed by his feelings of tenderness and rage both, and his cock stiffened, hot and heavy.

He sent Daryl away, saying, “I will discipline the Pet myself.”

He imagined pressing his aching cock against Riki’s feverish skin, marking him with the slick from his wet cockhead, sinking his teeth into the meat of him. Carnivorous, brute urges and butterfly tenderness. What would be left of them on the far side of an obliterating passion? More than anything, he wanted to find out.

When the door closed behind Daryl, Iason said, “You should thank me, Riki.” Doing his utmost to control his unsteady voice and ragged breathing, Iason stroked Riki’s sweat-beaded back, muscles jumping beneath the skin. “He would have hurt you badly.”

Although he was surely in pain, Riki had no thanks for Iason, made no pleas for release. He said, “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here at all. I’m thinking this is all your fault.”

So there would be no gratitude. Iason scoffed at Riki’s bravado, but was proud of him too, the defiant fool. “Blame me if you like.”

Iason stood behind Riki, where the Pet couldn’t easily see him. The warm, close air smelled of human skin and sour fear. Iason could hear no sound but the patter of droplets of sweat against the sheet spread beneath Riki and the throbbing of his own pulse. His longing for Riki was like an unending, throat-rending howl that was with him always, but here in this room it could be appeased if he just…

He let his cock slip out between Riki's thighs, intending just contact, the heat of skin. He reached to touch Riki's face and was surprised when Riki bit him, drawing blood even through his glove. Angrily, he jerked Riki's body into position, not caring if he hurt him. Violating every rule so impulsively was unthinkable, yet he watched as his own hands, suddenly unfamiliar, tightened on Riki’s narrow hips, pulling him back onto his cock.

He spoke the words aloud for Riki, but meant them for himself too. “Don’t scream.”

He thrust into resistance, forced himself through clenched flesh.

Once inside Riki's body, Iason's cock was no longer his alone. His body and Riki's were melded, as one, making the deepest possible connection. A wave of blood-hot pleasure, darker and more intense than anything he'd ever imagined, came to him on the uneven throb of Riki's pulse. The visceral intimacy of their flesh was overwhelming, almost unbearable. Iason wanted to ravage Riki, come inside him, tear him to pieces. Hesitant, Iason stood between Riki's trembling thighs and held his breath. Riki too was biting back a shout. Muscles jumped beside his spine and in his shoulders. His legs trembled and his ass clenched erratically at Iason's cock. He was frightened and hurt, perhaps badly.

Iason felt oddly, horribly guilty. He felt he shouldn't continue. He forced himself to withdraw his cock, careful and slow; it felt so good that his vision went white, his blood roared. But Riki was shuddering, wracked with pain, his jaw clenched tight. This seemed wrong somehow. This wasn’t what Iason wanted.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d so completely lost control.

Never. He’d never been so lost.

But Riki couldn’t know that Iason believed he’d made a mistake. He put his clothing in order and moved around to touch Riki’s face, his own expression serene despite the alarms sounding in his head. Riki sneered defiantly, tears in his eyes.

“It’s just discipline Riki. You learn from it, and we move on.” Iason stroked his cheek again. “You must remember who you are, Pet.”

It hadn’t been the most well-constructed lesson, but Iason wanted Riki to understand and accept that he was subject to Iason’s desires. If Iason wished to offer a caress, Riki should take it and be grateful rather than snapping like a cur. It seemed simple to understand, but stubborn Riki didn’t want to learn.

As for himself, Iason had learned that when it came to Riki, there was nothing he wouldn’t do, nothing that was too extreme. And while what he’d done seemed wrong in some way he could not easily articulate, he consoled himself with the knowledge that it was unquestionably his right to have done it.

~o0o~

In the aftermath of his worrisome loss of control, Iason told himself it was justified, practical, even wise to go ahead with sex. He theorized that fucking Riki might actually be beneficial to the City as a whole, allowing him to move past his obsession with his Pet and return to his baseline competent, controlled state.

It didn’t work out that way in practice.

Their first night together meant more than Iason would ever be willing to say, partly out of self-preservation and partly because he simply didn’t have the language to describe the complex changes sex with Riki had wrought within him.

Iason had made arrangements for a special meal and a good bottle of wine, both of which were wasted on Riki, who remained sullen and belligerent throughout until Iason wrestled him into submission and was deep inside him. Riki was different then, melting in Iason’s arms, arching beneath Iason’s weight, urging him on and begging for more.

The connection Iason craved roared to life between them, overwhelming and powerful. It was everything Iason had dreamed of and more, more intimate, more profound. The pleasure they took in each other was of an intensity beyond anything Iason had imagined.

Riki opened up to him and his submission was a gift.

But in the middle of the night, Riki tried to run.

Iason was disappointed but not really surprised. He went to see Riki in his little cell, where Daryl had strapped him to the bed. He stood over him and touched his face tenderly, noting his tense jaw.

“You didn’t dislike that, did you? I was careful with you, as careful as I could be.”

Riki frowned and turned his face away, and Iason interpreted this to mean that Riki wanted to say he’d hated it but couldn’t bring himself to lie.

Iason then offered him the world, and Riki spit on it, claiming his life in the slum was better than any life he could live with Iason, which was obviously just obstinacy.

“There are things you can’t give me,” Riki claimed.

“Not anything worth having,” Iason countered.

Riki said Iason didn’t understand. Of course he didn’t. There was no logical argument to be understood. Seeing no point in arguing further, Iason returned to his rooms and poured himself a drink.

As much as he might mean to Iason, Riki was still a mongrel, a throwaway. He was at the bottom of the hierarchy and Iason ruled from the top. To keep Riki happy, Iason was prepared to indulge him, to let him feel he was getting away with murder, to treat and spoil him, but ultimately Riki would have to submit and let Iason make decisions for him. But instead Riki fought, despite the obvious futility of fighting.

Iason suspected that Riki would always assert his will, would always insist on independence, would always rail against Iason’s control. Riki behaved as if it were shameful to belong to someone when instead he should see it as a privilege.

However, Iason did question whether he’d want Riki as much as he did if Riki were to submit completely, and suspected he would not. He suspected a tamed and cowed version of Riki would not interest him in the least. But these suspicions wouldn’t keep him from trying to secure Riki’s compliance. They wouldn’t stop him from demanding that Riki give in.

But the Riki Iason wanted would never give in completely. Just as Iason would always seek to dominate, Riki would always fight back. That was who they were, and who they were together.

A second night together was all Iason hoped for: a piercing connection, life-altering sex and Riki sleeping in his arms. He was almost unbearably happy. Nothing else had ever made him feel like this.

As he lay curled around Riki, a dragon guarding its treasure, he could admit he’d misjudged when he’d anticipated sex would move him past his obsession with Riki. If he was being honest with himself, he’d never believed that to begin with, but had only wanted to justify his reckless actions. What he was doing was impetuous and foolhardy, but he couldn’t make himself care about consequences because he and Riki were connected and it meant everything.

Over time, even as he continued to demand his freedom, Riki never tried to deny the obliterating passion that arose between them, the restless, insistent desire that drove them into each other’s arms and rendered everything else secondary. Though Riki never said it in so many words, Iason came to believe that their connection was superior to anything Riki had shared with any other man.

But on a few bleak occasions, sleeping Riki had turned in Iason’s arms and murmured, _Guy, Guy,_ leaving Iason dark with jealousy and questioning what he might need to do to have Riki completely to himself.

~o0o~

There were things they said to each other nearly every time they were together, almost like a ritual. Iason would be inside Riki, and Riki would shudder with sensation and then he’d beg _Let me go_. Iason would keep fucking him, harder and deeper, and he’d say _Not yet. It’s not enough_ , because it would never be enough. Riki would moan and clench around Iason’s cock, and sometimes Iason’s words, Iason’s denial, made Riki cry out and come, cock jerking untouched.

If Riki really wanted to leave Iason, then would he come when Iason said he couldn’t go?

Iason didn’t think he would.

~o0o~

Clearly there was something wrong with him. No matter what he felt for his Pet, Riki would have none of it, felt nothing in return. After sex, lying in rumpled sheets with Riki in his arms, his pulse pounding in his ears, he stayed quiet with thoughts he had no words for, thoughts too raw to share. Riki had no such inhibitions, always ready with endless complaints and demands, easily able to end the most tender encounter on a decidedly sour note. What Iason felt was so intense and overwhelming that he thought it might break him, and surely Riki felt no different, having gone through the same physical experience. Therefore this complex mix of chemicals and thoughts that he believed to be love must be nothing of the sort, and human love was something still further beyond, intolerable in its intensity.

He had not intended to fall in love with Riki, if that was what this was, and those emotions, much more than the physical acts he indulged in, felt transgressive and dangerous. When he was with Riki, stark and bare, he was wildly out of control, his purpose and will faltering, his emotions grossly exaggerated when applied to this insignificant person instead of a specific goal or endpoint of benefit to the City as a whole. He stopped caring about Jupiter or Tanagura or anything outside his bed when Riki reached for him: not just the contact, but the fact of Riki’s purpose, that he was reaching for him, for _Iason_.

He had entered into this arrangement thinking only of the physical facts of contact, but the way it felt went beyond his skin, deep into his thoughts. Riki was well-accustomed to sex, but even he seemed to find meaning in Iason’s caresses beyond mere stimulation. Or perhaps Iason was just fooling himself; Riki had been a whore after all, and would know how to make a trick feel special.

~o0o~

More and more, Iason felt that, despite all evidence to the contrary, and despite what should be the natural order of things, Riki dictated the terms of their engagement. Iason had let this happen; it was his own fault. Iason didn’t want the Riki who was forced into sex; Iason wanted the Riki who was willing, who desired him. But giving Riki freedom enough that he might come to Iason willingly also meant giving him freedom to defy. It gave him the ability to have preferences and to choose, luxuries not afforded any other Pet.

Riki used his freedom carelessly, callously. He took it upon himself to share his unfavorable opinions of Blondies in general and Iason in particular, and Iason withstood the insults with what he felt was admirable restraint. Riki had always felt free to complain, but the ever-greater latitude Iason afforded him gave him the cocky confidence to criticize his Master, to say no, to make demands, and his assertiveness made Iason deeply uneasy.

Riki’s days were his own, though Iason often had him followed in his wanderings, and Katze kept an eye on him too. All Iason asked was that Riki be at home when Iason returned from his work, and that he be waiting in a willing and anticipatory state.

Although he was on the longest possible chain, Riki continued to ask for freedom, though Iason wasn’t sure that he actually meant it anymore. It was routine for Riki to demand release, and when it was denied, to complain that Iason didn’t care for him or his feelings.

It wasn’t quite fair. Iason felt that he tried very hard, surely much harder than a human partner would, and of course everything he did went far beyond what any other Blondie would ever consider.

Many of the emotions and reactions Iason experienced now were as a result of Riki’s presence in his life; he had not had need of such responses before. His emotional spectrum now had a breadth and brilliance unimaginable before knowing this Pet. These same new feelings were hurt by Riki’s jibes. Iason had put a great deal of thought into being a considerate partner and he only used force when Riki wouldn’t do what he wanted. And really, most of what Iason wanted was sex, and Riki usually wanted that too. Riki was almost never disciplined anymore; he had nothing to complain about.

Restricting Riki’s movements and punishing him for transgressions were Iason’s only defenses against a complete loss of control. He was helpless to Riki’s tender gestures, weak to Riki’s submission. When he was deep inside Riki, lost in him, and Riki looked up at him with wide pupils and parted lips, saying _Let me go_ , the only power Iason had was refusal.

He didn’t have the power to make Riki love him, and without that he was essentially powerless.

~o0o~

They lay on saffron sheets, Riki’s head on Iason’s chest as he blew smoke at the ceiling. Iason touched Riki’s fragile throat, his collarbones that arced like wings. They were pleasantly exhausted from passionate sex. It was enough for Iason.

It wasn’t enough for Riki. He wanted to know why Iason had chosen him as a sexual partner. Iason wanted him to be quiet, though he willed Riki to understand this rather than simply telling him.

“What were you waiting for anyway? What made _me_ special?” Riki ceased speaking in case Iason wanted to answer, but Iason said nothing. He didn’t like the way this was going.

“You’re so much older than me,” Riki continued. “Wealthy. Handsome. I couldn’t believe you were still a virgin.” Was he…gloating? He sounded almost mocking.

Iason lied. “It didn’t mean anything to me. It wasn’t important. Virginity is merely a state of being. You’re too sentimental.”

Riki scoffed at this. “That’s such shit. You kept souvenirs.” He flung out a hand, pointing out a crystal bowl filled with the blackened heads of dried red roses. “Those are the flowers from the dinner table on our first night, right?”

Where was Riki going with this? Iason said nothing, kept his face blank.

Riki turned to look at Iason, incredulous. “Our first night, Iason. Remember? The first time you fucked me.”

“You’re forgetting,” Iason said coldly. “That wasn’t our first time.”

Riki’s taunting and boastfulness annoyed and upset Iason. He liked to think that the concept of virginity was irrelevant, though in fact he had saved the roses, and had felt sentimental about that first night in his bedroom, a night which had started rough and ended in mutual pleasure. But that hadn’t been the first time Iason had been inside Riki, and it was important for Iason to acknowledge that fact. He had penetrated Riki before the romance.

The incident in the training room, when he’d banished Daryl and shoved his cock in Riki’s body, was their true first time, technically, factually. The encounter had confused Iason and hurt Riki, and Iason hadn’t wanted to repeat it, but his behavior that day was far more Masterful than anything that had come after. He had been dominant and forceful. That he might turn to Raoul and honestly say, _I treated him carelessly and caused him pain_ , allowed him to hold onto a shred of dignity when everyone in the City was whispering that he was in thrall to a Pet.

Although it had been an ugly scene, and had left Iason feeling uncomfortable, it was important to recognize that he had exercised his will, as was his right. And although Elites would shame him for wanting sex, none would shame him for hurting a Pet to get it.

This conversation left Iason in a cold, sterile fury. He was not someone to be mocked or belittled, much less by a Pet. Iason had thought it right and natural to share something of his feelings with Riki, but he was unexpectedly wounded by Riki’s taunting that played so precisely off these vulnerabilities. No one should have such power over him. Riki should be cut down to size. He should remember he was a mere Pet and Iason was forever his Master.

~o0o~

He’d tried to teach Riki another lesson, but he was reluctantly having to admit he wasn’t good at lessons.

He’d miscalculated with the girl. He hadn’t enjoyed watching Riki perform at the party, had received no satisfaction whatsoever. He’d been irritated with Riki and had wished to retaliate, and he’d chosen his course of action in that unbalanced state of mind. It had been a mistake. Riki’s feelings were hurt, but Iason couldn't bring himself to apologize. A Master should never apologize to a Pet, and he was still the Master here. He was still in charge.

The morning after the party, he'd had the girl's contract sold at a loss, just to be rid of her.

He and Riki fought. Riki demanded an apology, though it was not his right to demand anything. Iason grew frustrated and reminded him he should know his place.

“My _place_!” Riki was livid. “You want me to ‘know my place,’ do you?”

Iason was annoyed by his outburst. “You’re my Pet. You seem to forget so easily.”

Riki asked, “Is that really all I am? Just your Pet?”

Iason frowned, lips pressed in a tight, bloodless line. Riki’s presumption infuriated and terrified him. He didn’t have a word for what Riki really was, but all he said was, “What else would you be?”

~o0o~

When Iason gave Riki a year’s freedom, he’d meant to call Riki’s bluff. He’d hoped Riki would refuse, would fall to his knees and cry and beg to stay. He’d hoped Riki would realize he didn’t want freedom at all, that Iason was all he needed. But Riki didn’t grovel, didn’t beg. He was hurt and confused, but he left.

As Iason watched Riki walk away, shoulders hunched and hands in pockets, he tried to feel confident of his return. Iason would wait, and Riki would come back to him, and there would come a moment when Riki knew as surely as Iason did that Riki belonged to him and always would.

## The End

Dana Bahn was collapsing, exploding, burning. Fumes from melting plastics made Iason’s eyes water. He thought he might be able to drag himself further from the burning structure, but the gases would soon catch up to him. He’d be better off getting this over with quickly.

Riki had staggered off of the bridge what seemed like hours ago. Iason had known Riki would go—had told him to go—and he couldn’t blame him for doing so. Riki had been trying to break away for years now, and it was a testament to Iason's persistence that it had taken something like this to secure Riki’s freedom.

Iason looked down at the ruined stumps of his legs. There was a great deal of pain, but not much blood, and it was strangely gratifying to know that Jupiter's enhancements to the autonomic nervous system might have allowed him to survive under other circumstances. Unfortunately, however, it would do him no good today: He wouldn't bleed to death, but the smoke and fumes would kill him, and then he’d burn, as there was no possibility he could drag himself through the heaps of rubble before being overtaken by the flames.

Against his natural impulse, he had saved Riki’s mongrel lover Guy, and he hoped Riki would remember this, if he thought of Iason at all. In effect, he’d given up his own life for Guy, the butcher who had mutilated Riki’s body, emasculating him in the name of _love_. In Guy’s place, he could not have done the same, would never have done it. If he truly cared for Riki, Guy should have left him to Iason. Riki had never said he loved Guy, so what right did Guy have to decide Riki’s future? Riki had never said he loved Iason either, of course, but Iason _did_ have the right to make such decisions on Riki’s behalf.

Such arguments were of no use now. This would be the end of it, then. And it was for the best. There were plenty who’d vie for Iason’s City position, men who’d give their all to the job. A proper Elite would never be distracted by foolish fantasies of love and connection. No one deserving the name Blondie would ever let his infatuation with a mere Pet destroy his concentration and nullify his achievements. For that matter, no sane Blondie would ever become infatuated with a Pet to begin with. There must have been something wrong with Iason all along. In a way, it was a relief to finally admit it.

Riki had never loved him, but that wasn't Riki's fault. Iason wasn't lovable. He wasn't human, after all, and it had taken a great deal of effort on his part to even begin to understand how different their situation seemed to Riki. Once Riki had explained to Iason that if they’d met as equals, he might have developed very different feelings quite naturally. He’d deliberately tangled his fingers in Iason's hair, had drawn the web of silvery strands over his face.

"If the situation had been different, I could’ve chosen you," he'd said.

"But you choose me now, don't you?"

Riki had sighed and turned his face away. "It's not the same." 

But nothing was the same as anything else; every situation was different.

Iason hadn’t intended to make the choices he'd made, either. He'd seen Riki from the window of his car and told Katze to pull to the curb. He'd never done anything like that before, and he never would again, and not only because he'd be dead sooner rather than later.

Riki could be with Guy again, go back to his gang. Hopefully, he'd be smart enough to go straight to Eos to remove all the valuables he could carry from the house before Jupiter and the authorities realized that Iason was missing. He wished he could call Riki back to tell him to do this, to insist. If Iason had to go down in flames, he liked to think that Riki could at least warm himself by the fire.

It was his own fault for loving Riki, loving a Pet. He wasn't supposed to love. He was supposed to take care of the fuss of desire with a stable of tame sex dolls, to look but not touch, to carry on with the important business of running Jupiter's City. He wasn't supposed to love anyone.

Iason let his head fall back against the bridge rail, which grew warmer and warmer against his back, and closed his eyes. Would he die of asphyxiation? Or would he have to wait, forced to be patient while the flames crept closer and closer, licking at his garments?

There was a sound like footsteps, surely illusory, yet it grew louder. He opened his eyes. A shadow stretched toward him across the rubble, the shape of a man. Iason raised his eyes and there, unspeakably welcome, was Riki making his way toward him, bathed in showering sparks.

He couldn't believe it. He said as much: “Riki. _Why?_ ”

If Riki heard his question, he did not deem it worth answering. Riki stood before him, looking down wearing a crooked smile.

“Bet you’re bored on your own,” he said, his tone almost jaunty. “Thought you might want someone to talk to.”

He lowered himself to sit on the ground at Iason’s side, his shoulder touching Iason’s arm.

“Tell me if I’m a nuisance and I’ll shut up,” he suggested, leaning closer. “It’s not my style to flirt, but at least I can curl up at your feet.” He tilted his head to rest on Iason’s shoulder.

Iason’s heart hurt, too joyful. He allowed himself a tiny smile.

Riki took a cigarette box from his pocket and shook out two; black moon, if Iason wasn’t mistaken. Riki asked, “You want one?”

Iason made himself sound casual, lighthearted. “Could do. Not bad to have a last smoke with you.” He propped the cigarette on his lip.

Riki flipped open his lighter and held it for Iason, then snapped it closed. He turned with his own cigarette balanced on his lip and angled his head so that the tips of their cigarettes touched; he inhaled, lighting his own cigarette from Iason’s. A perfect moment, so companionable and intimate. This reminded Iason of the best moments they’d shared, all of his very best memories.

They smoked without speaking. Riki burrowed closer, his shoulder digging into Iason's side. He wanted, perhaps, for Iason to hold him. Was he frightened? He looked a little pale. Iason put an arm around Riki's shoulders and he nestled in, shivering. Everything that was happening today was a tragedy, but Iason couldn't help smiling. Riki was _here_ , with him.

The narcotic effect of the cigarette took hold. Riki turned up his face, his breath warm on the underside of Iason's jaw. The flames were still distant, but burned so hot that Iason felt the skin of his face begin to tighten. Riki whispered, "Kiss me."

Iason's heart leapt in his chest. Riki's hand curled around the nape of Iason’s neck and his eyes fluttered shut, sooty lashes spiky with tears. The fumes were getting worse; Iason's eyes watered too. Riki kissed him hard, but without desperation. He opened his lips slowly, leisurely; let his tongue probe gently at the corner of Iason's mouth.

So there would be an end to them after all. Iason wanted to say _Not yet_ , but let his kisses say it instead. Riki whimpered and arched into his embrace. Iason licked open his soft mouth, nipped at his lips, sucked his tongue, and Riki moaned his name.

Iason exulted in the knowledge that he’d have the taste of Riki on his lips for the rest of his life.

The air was hot, searing the inside of his nose, throat and sinuses, and drying his eyes in their sockets. Sparks flew from the building, beams crashing down behind the thick walls. An occasional spark burned his skin, or caused a few strands of hair go up in smoke. The stench of burning chemicals made him choke. He pulled Riki against his chest, protecting Riki’s face behind the filter of his robe.

Riki clawed at the fabric over his eyes and nose. "Iason," he said. "Iason, listen! I have to tell you―"

"Shh…" Iason no longer cared about declarations. Riki was here, with him.

Riki's dark eyes were very wet, very serious. He put his hand on Iason's chin and turned his head for another kiss. It was hard to breathe, and when they broke apart, Riki gasped futilely for air, his throat torn by brutal coughing.

"You can get out," Iason whispered, his voice raw. "There's time."

"Shut up," Riki gasped, his eyes flashing angrily. His fingers tightened in Iason's garments and tangled in his hair, and he trembled in Iason’s arms as he continued to cough, though with decreasing force. There was nothing to breathe now but acrid smoke. With regret, Iason realized that Riki would die first. He was only human, not made to withstand extremes. Iason held Riki tightly, the warm damp of Riki’s tears soaking through to his skin.

The next phase of explosions began in the distance, each an abrupt collision followed by overlapping volleys of percussion, each explosion closer than the one before.

"It's almost time.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Riki's head. While Iason had been listening to the thunder of impending collapse, Riki had stopped coughing; probably he was already dead. Sparks arced down on their heads, Iason’s shoulders, the hunched curve of Riki’s back. An explosion nearby sent up a fountain of embers, a chrysanthemum of searing light. The winds whirled with increasing speed, roaring louder as the flames licked up the last of the oxygen. Iason's hair caught in an updraft and burned like a torch.

The world blew to pieces, turned to shimmering red. As the bridge broke apart beneath Iason's back, he felt Riki shift, his body lightening nearly imperceptibly, his essence emptying out of him like smoke.

In the instant before he too flew up, light and lost, Iason reached for Riki and made a final plea:

_Don’t go._

_Not yet._

_It’s not enough._

**Author's Note:**

> Raping A Slave is one of my own favorites and is my most popular story by far. I appreciate that so many people like it, but based on many reactions to that story, it has long seemed possible that I've somehow misled readers into thinking I had a happy ending in mind. In fact, all I ever wanted to do with this companion story was explore what was going on with Iason’s thoughts and emotions during scenes from RAS and canon events. 
> 
> I've put off finishing/posting this story for many, many years (I started it in 2004!), in large part because I've been reluctant to disappoint the people who were hoping I would “fix” the canon ending. I understand readers wanting someone to do this, but I’m not that writer. AnK is not a story that I can even imagine having a happy ending. What drew me in to AnK originally was how absolutely, tragically doomed their complicated love was. I like the angst. To me the canon ending is exactly right. I think most writers want to write a "true" story, one they believe in, and that's what I've tried to do.
> 
> My apologies if I've disappointed you. <3


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